


Breakfast at The Avenger's

by edgarallanrose



Series: Weekends at the Avenger's [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Bucky Gets to Eat His Fruit This Time, Avengers Tower, Breakfast, Bucky Lives with the Avengers, Domestic Avengers, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pure Unadulterated Fluff, The Author Just Wants Bucky to be Happy, The Avengers Actually Getting Along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7971679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky reached over the counter for the sugar bowl and started dumping gratuitous spoonfuls into his coffee.<br/>“Though if you wanted to slow down on the strawberries I could make us a real breakfast," Steve said.<br/>Bucky perked up, his teaspoon momentarily hovering over the mug.<br/>“I’m listening,” he said.<br/>“There’s waffle mix in the pantry.”<br/>“Do it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast at The Avenger's

**Author's Note:**

> And so I present to you my first work in the Marvel cinematic universe! There shall be hopefully many more to come!!
> 
> Abundant thanks are in order to my buddy, my pal, my Spooky D for always bouncing ideas back and forth with me and being the beta for this fic. Without her this would have probably stayed in my fics folder collecting cobwebs. 
> 
> This is honestly the purest thing I've ever written, like I think there's maybe two swear words. So if you're looking for fuzzy feelings and witty banter, you've come to the right place.

Steve toweled off the perspiration along his upper lip and hairline. The gym in Avenger’s Tower was still blissfully empty, the sun only just having risen an hour before. He could blast the Motown Pandora station as loud as he wanted. Steve had steadily made his way through the decades during his morning workouts, now he just returned to the favorites. After a quick shower he threw on sweats and a t-shirt and made his way into the kitchen – hair damp and barefoot, not expecting anyone else to be there – where Bucky sat at the counter. His shoulders were hunched over and his arms circled protectively around a carton of fresh strawberries.

“Hey, pal,” Steve said, opening up a cabinet and rummaging around for the coffee filters, “didn’t see you this morning so I went to the gym without you.”

“Yeah, got up a little earlier than usual,” he said. He bit into a plump strawberry, juice running down the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off with the back of his right hand.

Steve filled the coffee machine with water and pressed the power button. He leaned against the counter and Bucky popped another large strawberry in his mouth. It was still strange seeing Bucky in this setting. It had taken months of therapy and deprogramming for him to even get access to the building, let alone his own living quarters. Steve knew some of his team members were still apprehensive about his presence, but he had been clear. The Avengers would have both of them or neither of them.

Steve plucked a strawberry out of the carton before Bucky could smack his hand away. They were firm and lush, sweet without being overripe.

“Mmm, Buck, where’d you get these?”

“Deeuhdaluah,” he said, mouth full of red pulp. Steve made a face.

“Wanna run that by me again in English?”

Bucky swallowed and smirked.

“Dean and Deluca. You know this dinky carton cost me eight bucks?”

“You went all the way up to Dean and Deluca this morning?” Steve asked.

“It’s only a few blocks away. About two miles there and back.”

“Yeah, but I mean,” Steve turned away, taking a moment to pour the scalding hot coffee in the mug Natasha got for him: _#1 Grandpa._ “You walked all around midtown by yourself this morning?”

“I don’t need handlers anymore,” Bucky said with a grimace.

“Nah, c’mon, you know that’s not what I meant. It just hasn’t been that long since your mug was all over the news is all.”

“Don’t worry. I had my cap and sunglasses on. And a giant hoodie to cover up the…” he gave his metal arm a little wave. “Didn’t realize until after I was in the store that I looked like the damn Unabomber, wearing all that in the middle of August. I only even know who that is because Nat told me.”

Steve dragged a hand down his face, feigning exasperation while trying to hide his smile.

“Dammit, Buck…”

“I need my fruit, Stevie.”

“I know you do,” he said with a sigh. He poured out a cup (another gift from Natasha, decorated with yellow flowers and the quote ‘Buck up, buttercup!’) and slid it in front of Bucky. Bucky reached over the counter for the sugar bowl and started dumping gratuitous spoonfuls into his coffee. “Though if you wanted to slow down on the strawberries I could make us a real breakfast.”

Bucky perked up, his teaspoon momentarily hovering over the mug.

“I’m listening,” he said.

“There’s waffle mix in the pantry.”

“Do it.”

Steve rummaged around the kitchen until he found all of the ingredients. He cracked two eggs into a bowl and beat them while the waffle maker heated up.

“Ya know, that stainless steel stuff just ain’t the same,” Steve said, looking woefully at the waffle maker.

“We gotta go completely cast iron around here,” Bucky agreed, “or does Tony have an aversion to classic cookware too?”

“Not even eight A.M. and you’re already talkin’ smack about me,” came a loud voice from the corridor just outside the kitchen.

Tony shuffled in wearing a threadbare MIT sweater, boxers, and mismatched socks. The circles under his eyes were dark and puffy and his hair was in a state of disarray that, for once, wasn’t artfully styled. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but Tony shushed him, slowly making his way across the kitchen to the coffee pot. He pulled out a mug shaped like his Iron Man mask and filled it to the brim, sipping it delicately before looking at Bucky.

“Yes, James?”

“Anthony,” Bucky said. Tony scowled. “I was just going to comment on how proud I was that you’re up before the crack of noon.”

“Actually,” Tony said, gesticulating wildly and splashing coffee over the side of his mug, “I haven’t gone to bed yet. Had stuff to work on. Exciting stuff. Stuffy stuff.”

“Is that why you look like an insomniac raccoon?” Steve teased.

“I’m fucking Iron Man, Rogers. Part of my brand is being eccentric and sleep deprived.”

“Well, you look like shit,” Bucky said.

“I see why you keep him around,” he said to Steve, “he says such sweet things.”

“This is nothing compared to growing up,” Steve said, sifting through the drawers until he found the measuring cup he wanted. “His mouth was always getting us into trouble.”

“Thought you liked my mouth, dollface,” Bucky said with a wink.

Steve knew he should probably laugh, play it off as a joke. Instead he blushed to the tips of his ears and aggressively mixed the wet ingredients with the dry. Tony narrowed his eyes and took a long look at both of them.

“I’d tell you two to get a room,” he said, “but I noticed you’re making waffles.”

“It’s a double recipe. Stick around if you want some,” Steve offered.

“You know what this needs though,” Tony said, stepping into the pantry. “Some giant slabs of bacon cooked in…” he reemerged, “this cast iron skillet that is hanging from the pot rack in the pantry, if you had bothered to look instead of run your mouths.”

“Alright, alright, I take it back,” Bucky said with an eye roll.

“Thank you,” Tony said with a little bow.

Steve ladled the batter into the waffle maker, watching it sizzle for a moment before closing the lid. Bucky looked longingly at his strawberries while he sipped at his coffee. Tony fished around the fridge for the bacon while the cast iron heated up.

“I smell coffee,” Natasha said, striding in still wearing her leotard and tights, hair slicked into a tight bun from dancing in her studio all morning. She set her pointe shoes down on the counter. “And is this…are you cooking real food?”

“Yes, we are,” Tony said, “so we’d appreciate you putting your little toe shoes somewhere other than where food prep is happening.”

“Little toe shoes? Bitch, these are Grishko’s,” she said, picking up her shoes and putting them somewhere less obtrusive. “Toe shoes…” she scoffed. She spotted the strawberries on the counter and raised her eyebrows at Bucky. Bucky sighed and pushed the carton towards her. She grinned and picked one out, taking a delicate nibble.

“Mmm,” she said, “you know what this breakfast needs? Egg white scramble.”

She fished a pan out from one of the cabinets before getting the eggs out of the fridge.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve said, placing the first finished waffles on a plate. “Remember that bodega we had around the corner from our old place?”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky’s face lit up. “With that sweet lady, Maria. She used to give me all the bruised fruit she couldn’t sell.”

“So the fruit obsession was a thing even then?” Natasha smirked, separating the yolks from the whites.

“It was the only way Stevie could get his vitamins.”

“Aw, ‘Stevie’,” Tony said, flipping bacon over in the skillet. “That’s actually…kind of adorable. I didn’t know super soldier assassins could be adorable.”

“You took good care of me, Buck,” Steve said softly. Bucky looked up at him with a small smile.

“I tried anyway. You shoulda heard Sarah Rogers every time I brought him home all scraped up ‘cause he decided to tell off the neighborhood thugs,” he cleared his throat and spoke with a slight Irish lilt, “Steven Grant! What did I tell ye about pickin’ fights? James, I ought ter tell your mother.”

“Your middle name is Grant?” Tony snickered.

“You know its Grant, it’s in my dossier.” Steve stacked a second set of waffles onto the plate.

“It’s funnier hearing it out loud.” Tony took the bacon from his skillet and dumped it unceremoniously onto a paper towel. “Of course, we don’t know Romanoff’s middle name. We probably don’t even know her real first name.”

Natasha smiled sweetly, cracking her last egg against the side of the bowl.

“We don’t have middle names in Russia,” she said, and left it at that.

Natasha took the bowl of spare egg yolks and started walking toward the trash can.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Throwing these away.”

Steve frowned.

“It’s not 1939 anymore, Cap, we can afford more eggs,” Tony said.

“It’s not that,” Steve said. “It’s just wasteful.”

“Well what’re we going to do with just the yolks?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll make custard later,” Steve said, talking the bowl out of her hands.

“You make custard?” Tony asked, incredulous.

“Steve can do a lot of things that aren’t in his dossier,” Bucky said, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Buck…” Steve warned under his breath as he passed by Bucky on his way to the refrigerator to put the yolks away. Bucky responded by pinching his butt. Steve bit his lip and looked skyward, wondering how he had survived this long only for Bucky Barnes to be the death of him.

Tony and Natasha seemed to miss the entire exchange. Natasha quickly scrambled the eggs in her pan and Tony was stacking the final batch of waffles onto the plate. Bucky got up and started setting plates and silverware on the breakfast table, and while he wasn’t looking Tony crammed two strawberries in his mouth. Steve started to tell him off but Tony silenced him with a look. Steve rolled his eyes. Children. He lived with children.

“We got syrup for these waffles?” Bucky asked, peering into the pantry.

“It’s the good kind, it’s in the fridge,” Tony said, still trying to quickly chew his strawberries. Bucky glared at him.

“Please don’t kill me in my sleep,” he said.

“I can’t make any promises,” Bucky said with a shrug.

“C’mon, fellas, play nice,” Steve said.

“You know, I used to be programmed to hunt down fruit thieves. Maybe you’ve set me off again, Stark.”

“Bucky, that ain’t funny,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. Natasha snickered behind him. “Nat, you’re not helping.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, _soldat_ ,” Tony said with an eye roll.

“Alright, enough, sit down and eat your breakfast,” Steve said as he and Natasha brought all the food to the table.

“Cluck, cluck, mother hen,” Tony mumbled. Even Bucky chuckled at that, so Steve joined in. They all took their seats and silence fell very quickly as they realized how hungry they were. Bucky peered into the strawberry carton and frowned.

“Well, there’s enough strawberries left for each of us to have one. I hope you’re all happy with yourselves.”

“If you want I can get a grocery service to deliver your daily fruit fix, Barnes,” Tony offered. Bucky’s eyes widened.

“You can do that?”

“Yeah, just give me a list, whatever you want.”

“Has anyone told your boy about smoothies yet?” Natasha asked Steve.

“One thing at a time, I think,” Steve said.

“Thanks for the waffles, Steve, these are great,” Bucky said, helping himself to seconds. Again, Steve felt a blush rise unbidden to his cheeks. Bucky smirked, if the other two noticed they didn’t say anything.

“Sure thing, pal.”

“ _Pal_ ,” Natasha repeated meaningfully to Tony.

“Buddy _,”_ Tony said back in the same tone.

“Bro.”

“My man, my guy.”

They both snickered while Steve and Bucky stared at them like they were speaking another language.

“Don’t worry about it, Rogers,” Natasha said. “One day we’ll knock the no-homo out of you.”

“The wha-?”

“Hey fam!” Sam called, exiting the private elevator in his gray sweats, holding what appeared to be a large bakery box. “Guess who got…” he saw the half eaten spread on the table and groaned. “Man, the one time you guys make a dank ass breakfast would be the time I get donuts.”

“Whoa, slow down there, my fine feathered friend. Your donuts will not go to waste,” Tony said, getting up and opening the box that was still in Sam’s hands. “You got Boston Cream right?”

“Do I look like a fool?”

“Just checking.” Tony stuffed the donut in his mouth and moaned.

“Dude, do that kind of stuff in private, please.”

“Fine. It’s time for me to finally retire for the evening anyway. Someone come get me if aliens crawl out of a wormhole in the sky. Anything else the NYPD can take care of.”

With that, Tony shuffled out of the kitchen, only to return a second later to grab his unfinished cup of coffee and leave again.

Natasha stacked up the empty plates and took them over to the sink, starting up a conversation with Sam about the type of donuts he had bought. Underneath the table Bucky reached for the hand resting on Steve’s thigh. Steve smiled shyly at him, grasping his hand and running his thumb over Bucky’s knuckles.

“What should we do today, pal?” Bucky asked.

“I kinda want to take a day trip,” Steve said, “go somewhere we can be ourselves for a while.”

“We can head over to Grand Central, catch a train into Jersey. Hit the beach.”

“We’ll have to find a private one. Can’t have you dressed like the Unabomber on the sand.”

Bucky snorted.

“What I should do is get this mop cut off my head,” he said, pushing back a couple stray strands. “Might be a little less recognizable that way.”

“No, I like it.” Steve caught himself before he reached out to thread his fingers into Bucky’s hair. Natasha and Sam had been looking in their direction again. Steve dropped Bucky’s hand from under the table. Bucky smiled sadly. Steve wasn’t even sure why they were still hiding. Surely his teammates, if they hadn’t already guessed, would understand. The world seemed a much more accepting place than the one he had left. At the end of the day, he supposed, he was still a private man. He liked having something that wasn’t filed away with the U.S. Government or on display at the Smithsonian. Bucky could just stay his and his alone.

“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice soft and low, “let’s get out of here. Just you and me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there it is folks. I finally wrote a Stucky fic. As aforementioned, this is the first work I have posted in this fandom, and my first time writing most of these characters, so I would LOVE any and all feedback! 
> 
> Also, this is going to be a series of the domestic happenings of all the Avengers (pairing-wise with a focus on Stucky, but may dabble into some Clintasha and ScarletVision as well. Becuase I love them). Stay tuned and subscribe for the next installment, [Avenger's movie night!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8096206)
> 
> If you would like to throw some other ideas my way for what the Avengers get up to during their downtime, have at it. I didn't even get to include everybody in this lil ficlet, so if you have a favorite Avenger that you'd like to see included next please let me know!
> 
> Follow me on the tumblrverse! [edgarallanrose](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)


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